275-word post, or “Torquil’s Cheddar”

It was close and firm in texture, yet mellow in character.

It was rich and fine, with a sharp, pungent flavour. And mouthfeel? Oh, it had mouthfeel; It literally melted on the tongue.

It was a block of cheddar, and it belonged to Torquil.

“Mine,” he would say, rolling the word around his mouth as he would soon do to the block of cheddar which was his… but which sat behind the shop window (not his) with a tiny placard which suggested a price that was many farthings more than Torquil had in his pocket (none).

The shopkeeper rapped the window, startling him. “Oy!” said the shopkeeper. “Stop lickin’ and steamin’ up my window, right? I’ll ’ave the constable after you if I see you ‘ere again!”

Torquil gave the shopkeeper as withering a slit-eyed look as he could and trudged across the square.
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No one in this town appreciates me, he thought, sadly. I’m a laughing stock, he thought, resentfully. Because I’m poor, he decided. But one day… one day…

“Excuse me?” said an elderly voice. Torquil let out a sharp, short “GAH!”and sharted, so finely tuned was his startling mechanism.

An old lady stood before him, holding two packages. “I noticed you looking at the large cheddar in the shop. I bought it and had it cut in two, and I’d like to share it with you if you’ll have it?”

Torquil’s mouth dropped. His lip trembled. A tear formed in his eye.

Then he punched the old lady in the gut and ran off with both packages, because it was HIS CHEDDAR, and also he was the biggest dick in the village.

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